Red
by pheonixfeather666
Summary: Someone trained Bucky. Someone was taken away from Clint. Someone is coming back, but not who they thought it would be.
1. Chapter 1

((TEXT))-In russian. Can't use google translate for everything, right?

**TEXT**-Sorry, I added a telepath. Telepathy is omnilingual.

Bucky woke up, screaming for her. screaming for Red. Alyssa, her name was Alyssa. He had killed her, and, like the Winter Soldier, Red had come to inhabit the dead girls' body. Her right hand had been mangled, and replaced with one of metal.

It was twenty years ago. He hadn't been nearly as good back then. His job had been a six-month immersion. Hydra had declared her a threat. He needed to get close. He did.

Seven dates, lots of nights over, thousands of kisses. Hugs, crying in the rain. It had been wonderful.

He had killed her.

Red had taken her place, and neither remembered.

The new strawberry blonde was his mentor. She had a red star painted on the back of her artificial hand. It matched his.

Steve and Natasha were in his room while he recounted seeing her fall, her right hand getting crushed, her left red-and-black glove falling off.

The extraction team had rescued the still-alive Alyssa a fixed her. She had made him equal to Steve and inferior only to himself.

Then Natasha recounted with him how the three had met.

Natalia dropped to the ground, tears streaming down her face. (("Please don't kill me.")) Her voice was small and plain, no fear, no hatred, no hope.(("We aren't here to hurt you, only to bring you in.")) The voice from the taller, darker figure was rough, like it hadn't been used, and it was obviously a male. His companion, though, Natalia wasn't so sure about.(("Please don't hurt me." ))At her words, the smaller companion dropped to it's knees and removed it's heavy facial mask. It was a..girl. Barely older than twenty, by the looks of her.

**Hello, Natalia. My identification code is 565731, and this is 565732. However, we are better known by the codenames Winter Soldier and Red Star.** The girl smiled, her green eyes still dead and unchanged. **I am to be addressed as Red, or Asset.** At this, the Winter Soldier kicked his...partner? Partner in the side, knocking her over.

(("I'm the Asset, Red! You're new, and it's my identification! Get your own!")) His voice had completely changed pitch, and it got even higher as Red leapt at him, tearing off his muzzle and punching him in the jaw, wrapping her legs around his waist.

(("I was here first! Not my fault that they activated you before me this time! I'm Five-six-five-seven-three-one, you idiot! You're Five-six-five-seven-three-two! I was here first!")) She shouted. Her voice was unchanged, but Natalia didn't hear it resonating inside her skull, and she saw Red's flawless lips form the words.

(("Not your fault? Yes, it is your fault! You killed that guy and we were supposed to take him in for questioning!"))

(("You were! You were supposed to bring him in! I had very clear orders! KILL HIM!"))

"Stupid KGB! I did not ask for this when they made me train under you! We work for different people, Hydra Dammit!"

**Wait… You just admitted it!** Red shrieked, flipping off of the soldiers' back. **You admitted that I was here first! Haha!**

(("Did not!"))

**Didn't he, little Natalia? Didn't my Comrade?** Red asked, dancing over to the younger girl and picking her up.

(("Wait, when? When did he say that?")) Natalia asked, confused.

(("Comrade, you idiot, you spoke in English. You couldn't have even used German? I think little Nataliacould understand your mad ravings better in German. Who would teach a child, a ballerina as she, English, the language of demons and murderers?")) Red said, hugging the six year old to her chest, the blood of Natalia's father staining her black and red uniform. Natalia turned her focus to the red star on the left shoulder, the black metal-covered gloves, the red star on her right hand. The red star smack in the middle of her chest, with a red belt.

**You wonder why there is red, when I could wear only black, like my pupil? I do, when I go on stealth missions and don't bring the idiot.**

(("I heard that!")) The idiot yelled from across the square, checking for survivors. (("Or...Whatever the telepathic equivalent of hearing is."))

(("Mmm, using big words to impress a girl. So useless when she keeps a mental tab on your every thought at all times. Even more useless when her mission has specifications to bring the package willingly.")) Though Natalia could no longer hear her, Red was obviously communicating with the Soldier.

(("O-oh. Well. Let's go, then, now. Oh, Hydra, please now.")) He said, begging.

(("Okay, let's go.")) Red picked up Natalia and carried her back to an aircraft.

Natasha was crying, smiling at the thought of the young woman she had been saved by, not the bitter girl Red had become after they had deactivated the Idiot.

"They deactivated my boyfriend, that's what, Natalia!"

"But Red, Christmas. You love Christmas."

"I loved it with the Winter Soldier."

**Clint woke up in a cold sweat, without Natasha beside him. He had dreamed about Alyssa, the death he had only heard about. **In the dream, her eyes were filled with tears. They were spilling over, the blue smudged out by water and panic. The tears flowed down, joining the water and ice melting off of her clothes. The familiar ripped jeans were actually ripped, as was her shirt. Blood pooled on the ground, staining the mist.

"Clint, you could have saved me. I trusted you. You said I would be safe. _I trusted you._"

"No, I couldn't have." He tried to protest. I didn't know that you were an assasin's mission. I couldn't have done anything!"

"Clint, I trusted you." One of her black gloves with a red star on the back floated down, landing in front of him. The left one. She whispered "I trusted you," one more time before fading into the mist.

"NO! No, no, no!" He yelled, sitting up. "No," He sobbed, fully awake.


	2. Chapter 2

They couldn't do another raid on a base. They just couldn't. Stark was falling apart without Pepper, Clint and Natasha hadn't been able to sleep since Bucky joined the team. Steve couldn't deal with the things this made him think of, not now, not with Bucky and no Peggy. Bucky had been juiced for seventy years, and wasn't up to this with flashbacks, much like his patriotic counterpart. Bruce couldn't _walk_ after hulking out so much. They just...Couldn't

Clint wasn't sure why Bucky made him think of Alyssa. She who had died so...Violently. Maybe if Natasha would stay with him at night, he could tell her, but she needed to see him thrashing and hear him screaming before she would understand. Nat was the only one who could know. He trusted her.

Bucky wasn't really sure why Barton made him think of Alyssa. Maybe...Maybe he did, but couldn't remember.

Neither of them was comfortable, and they weren't ready for the raid. Luckily, they weren't the ones raiding.

Hydra was.

The Red Star was leading the charge. She had clearly received orders to act furious, but she wasn't pulling it off. Not to someone looking. Clint didn't recognise her, but she was Hydra, that was clear. They went on the defensive.

Something about the strawberry blonde in tactical gear was familiar. They hadn't met. He was certain.

The girl's fighting style was like Bucky's, but...stronger. More solid. Like you couldn't flip her or grab her foot if you had the powers of everyone in the universe. She was scary.

Bucky hadn't reacted well to seeing his lover, unremembering, wild, fighting. She wasn't his anymore, and it wasn't right.

A few lines both Clint and Bucky knew from her were "Feet like water, swift and quiet, voice like wind, cool and kind, stance like rock, strong and hard. However, water dries and freezes. Wind dies down. Rocks break and crumble. Make sure the storm you create is worth the trouble." They weren't exactly inspirational, but they were comforting.

It had been months since she had remembered a damn thing, but at least she was compiling what she had. A face, a code, a name. None were hers. One man blonde, handsome, even, but she loved him in a different way. Remembered loving him, that is. The Red Star did not love. Love was a concept, nothing more. The Red Star was not compassionate. Compassion was a urge that must be resisted. The reason for either of these things had left, with the vibrant red hair of her pupil's pupil. They had been a… A family, the first one she had had for a good long while. All reason for life, all reason for survival.

The name, though. The name that played through with a scream. It was a name, and it wasn't hers, not really, but there was a calling, screaming, begging for help.

_Clint!_

She couldn't help but play it over in her mind. The aircraft wasn't a very good place to leave her unattended. They should have known that by now. Or maybe they were testing her?

No, there was the recording, and soon there would be sedatives, and all would be right. The recording of a young girl speaking of the virtues of Hydra. She sounded about twenty, somewhere between eighteen and twenty five.

_Red!_

The new memory blazed through her mind, a man's voice. Not the blonde, not him, this voice was too high and panicked. This was the brunette with the silver arm. Silver like her hand, with something red… Or black? Was it black?

The sedative struck, and she fell over, her focus on the massive tangle in her reddish hair. It needed to go, but she wouldn't remember that. When they played the Recording, it was a sign that they would fix her, take away the headaches that came when she remembered. Take away the injuries, give her the required nutrients, and she would sleep.

A memory surfaced as she blacked out.

_It was sweet and hot, and they both needed it. It had been a very grueling mission. Natalia didn't care where they went, so long as no one forgot. If they came back at night, it was okay. _

_Sweet and hot, but painful. It was so, so nice to feel like the sun could take a few lessons on heat. To feel like that was amazing. It was like life had ended, leaving only them, sweat, and the searing heat. It was horrible, though, that this is what they needed to.._

_To feel… The word…_

The electric shock fried her brain. The thought and the word were both gone.

**A/N: Okay, this was short, but it'll get better. Give me suggestions, and my tumblr is seriously pheonixfeather666, so contact me there as well. **


	3. Chapter 3

Fury explained that the girl they had found wasn't a mass murderer, no more than the rest of them. She had panicked and run when she had woken up, like usual, but she didn't remember who she was supposed to be, and the Recording hadn't been playing. Someone had wanted her to escape, and escape she did.

Her perfect complexion had dulled, and her strawberry hair had been frayed and knotted. Her soft lips were cracked and blue, but the red star on her right hand was as bright as ever. The soft white lighting made her look like death on morphine.

Clint glared at the other Avengers, while Bucky and Natasha sat right by her. It was Red, 565731, Red Star, the Asset, their fellow soviet assassin.

"Don't tell me, a new addition to the Assassin Squad," Stark stepped in, stopping short when he saw the two harshest clustered around the girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty.

Banner was already there, checking her breathing and pulse, observing, while he questioned Bucky about what they would do.

"We didn't actually _eat_, per se. They shoved nutrients into our blood and gave us water. And they shot us with sedatives when they wanted us to sleep, that's why I sleep so weird. They had her on a non-addictive drug cocktail. I don't know what was in it, but it was _bad._ Sh-"

"She'd come back in the middle of the night and her face would be covered in blood. Sometimes it wasn't hers, and sometimes it was. It didn't matter, we couldn't let them see. They'd make her forget." Natasha cut in.

"I'll see what I can do." Bruce said, walking past the dumbstruck Tony.

Her cheeks were ashen gray, and her eyes were starting to flutter. They were a bright, maniac blue, like when Clint had been brainwashed. She was obviously pretty when _not_ in a coma.

She was coming out of it, and Bucky insisted that everyone but him leave. He didn't even have to shove when a razor blade popped out of her wrist. Natasha wouldn't leave, and everyone else crowded around Steve at the window. No one noticed Clint off in the shadows, calling his older brother.

She was awake, and she was confused. She remembered stone, not plaster and , not faces that haunted her at night. And...The NAME. The name that echoed through her mind. It was...Back? Had there been anything else? How could it be back if nothing had happened before?

"There's a name, running over and over through your mind. What is it?" The man asked.

"B...Barton. But, how…" Her voice was quiet and cracked, but surprisingly low.

"I've been where you are before."

"I'll go get Clint." Natasha said, slipping out.

"Clint? Overprotective Clint?" She asked, sitting up faster than lightning.

"Well, I may not be too keen on Natasha and Barnes having a history, but really? The amnesiac thinks I'm overprotective!" Clint exclaimed, plopping down besides...her. It was Alyssa; he knew, somehow. But it wasn't her.

"I-But-Um…" She mumbled, scooting away from the sudden movement.

"My name is Clint Barton. What's your's?" He asked, smiling.

"I-I don't…"

"Your file said Alison Holt. You were stationed as a guard with us on a raid. You lost most of your right arm, and you were in a catatonic state, so we used some Hydra tech from that guy's" Steve came in, pointing at his best friend since forever- "Arm. How are you feeling?"

"Hell on painkillers, sir. Hell on painkillers."

"Oh...Well, I hope you feel like a soldier soon!" Steve said, smiling with puppy dog eyes. Bucky had been softly smiling down at the girl who had trained him for quite a while, but looked up as Clint and Steve left.

"Was I actually a guard? If I was a guard for a guy with a circular scar, two military commanders, a guy wearing full Norse battle armor, and two assassins, I think I would remember."

"How…" Bucky gasped, leaning back.

"Your eyes. They've seen battle, and you've sent men to their deaths, after being sent yourself to die. Same with the guy in plaid, except I'm guessing he was a special case. He doesn't look like he was sent, he jumped in headfirst. You got the draft.

"Barton and leather Jacket girl have a cold look, like they've been sent into life and death situations, but mostly for other people on the death part. Assassin's, plain and simple.

"Anyone can tell that that's northern workmanship, and I don't think it's from Scotland. Circle Scar is acting like he's just out of the hospital, and he's guarding his chest cavity. Besides, there's a hole in the undershirt. Circular, same place he's guarding. How'd I do?"

"Fantastic." He said, eyes brimming with tears.

"You were an assassin, too. You look like you have something to regret, but you know you couldn't have done anything."

"How do you do that?" He asked, watching her face contort.

"I don't know."

"I-I don't know."

Six months later

She was being released. Discharge. She would live at the Avengers Tower until further notice.

She was firmly Alison Holt. Every single fabricated bit of information had been drilled into her mind. Birthday, age, family, records.

No one really cared about that, though. She had hit it off phenomenally with Clint and Bucky, They were going to break and tell her everything.

She was being discharged on her "Birthday", so everyone bought a gift. Natasha bought a few outfits and a coat, while Tony bought a matching watch. Steve didn't bring his, it was too big. Thor brought a bunch of books in Old Norse, which she somehow understood. Clint brought a art set, a big, full, fill-a-room art set. Bruce got a iPod with all sorts of music, centering around Celtic and fantasy.

Only Bucky's gift really made a difference. It was a tool kit, with knives and screwdrivers and wrenches and a hammer. Sure, Stark had set aside an entire room full of science stuff for her, but knives. She loved knives, and people didn't trust her. They thought she would suddenly snap back to being a killing machine.

The nurses and doctors didn't say anything as she walked away into the sunlight for the first time in months. Her right arm whirred and clicked, shifting so it didn't overheat. The sensation was strange, as it hadn't done that recently. _Recently._ How...It hadn't done that at all in her mind, so how was it recently? Besides, wasn't it new?

She shook it off, climbing into the driver's seat of one of Stark's cars. His chauffeur, Happy, simply took her bag and put it in the luggage car, which he would drive.

The leather of the seat was cool and firm, like a leather mat she had been sleeping on in the...place. The place no one would explain, the stone place with leather and guards and strange red symbols on the walls. The same red as the star on James's arm, the same red as the star on her hand. She looked at it, frowning. It didn't make sense. Why paint a star on her hand?

The simple motions of driving brought back glimpses, a car, a much less expensive car, with felt seats and a smiling blonde in the passenger's seat. Herself, smiling back, her long strawberry hair glinting in the breeze from the open window, the sunlight, the trees. It was amazing.

In the tower, Alison-That name wasn't right. It couldn't be right.- was shown to her apartment. This was Steve's present. It was a soft blue, with white trim. The furniture was brown velvet, and everything matched. There were paintings on the walls, wonderful landscapes, the New York skyline, and a framed portrait of all of them, all of the Avengers, with Alison, Fury, and Bucky. It was perfect in every detail. The kitchen was fully stocked, and in fifteen minutes, everyone was eating chocolate-honey cupcakes that Alison had remembered how to make.

Her hair hadn't turned back to the wild, dull frizz it had been with KGB, nor had it returned to the near-red of Clint's memory. Instead, it was now a soft gold, which suited her face, still somehow soft and roundish after years of torture. She had full cheeks and wide, but not exotic, grey-blue-green eyes, framed by delicate brown lashes, complemented by a soft porcelain doll complexion, complete with warm pink cheeks and soft red lips, without makeup.

It was amazing sight, to see her out of the harsh white lights of the rehab center. _I saw her in dark red lights, and it looked better than this._ Natasha was confused as to why all of her comrades thought "Ally" was so pretty in daylight. The soft face and wild gold curls, the warm, soft, tall frame, they weren't enough to make this girl pretty, not without the fire in her eyes, the defiance and sarcasm, the bitterness that came with being the plaything of Russia.

Any hope of Clint confessing that they knew each other, had known each other forever, before everything, the chaos that had killed Alyssa, was washed away by seeing Barnes flirting. That was probably how they broke her, by watching Natasha be broken. By watching her comrade be tortured. The Alyssa he had known cared, gave out her heart to anyone worth the time of day.

She was gone.


End file.
